


Naughty Narratives of the Dragon Age

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of longer one shots, set in the world of Dragon Age: Origins and featuring some of its characters. They're not all rapey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elven mage Crestacia has fallen hard for Leliana, but does the bard share those feelings?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as a gift for my boyfriend, who was smitten with Leliana at the time. Crestacia is his character.

## Complete

Crestacia realized she had fallen in love with Leliana after they had travelled together for a few weeks. Every time the pretty redhead was near, her heart would begin beating faster; every time she spoke in that delightful Orlesian accent, a lump would form in her throat; every time her radiant sky blue eyes met hers, her stomach would tie itself in pleasant knots. All she wanted to do was run her fingers through that silky-looking red hair; to kiss those voluptuous lips; to caress that creamy skin.

In the Circle tower, her old home, the elven mage had never felt anything like this. She had briefly flirted with Alistair, but the spark was just not _there_. He was handsome enough, and nice too. Many times she had wondered just why she wasn't attracted to him. And now she knew: apparently the ladies appealed more to her.

This wasn't just any lady though, it was _Leliana_ we were talking about here. She knew so many stories, had seen so many things. How would she tell her? Should she tell her? She'd been mulling that over for days when the assassins attacked, intent on taking her love's life. Naturally they never stood a chance, and when their leader revealed that Leliana's former bard-master was behind the attempt, Crestacia couldn't run to Denerim fast enough to kill the bitch. Never in her life had the girl felt such pure anger.

But when Marjolaine lay dead at her feet and Leliana grew silent and pensive, she wondered if she had done the right thing. Guilt stabbed into her innards when the bard confessed that she had loved her master, how she feared that she used others the way Marjolaine had used her. Crestacia was quick to take the other girl in her arms and tell her that no, she was a good person, not at all like Marjolaine was. And she meant every word of it.

In spite of the encouraging words, Leliana took some time to herself, nearly breaking the mage's heart. It would be days before they would speak properly again.

~*|'-'|*~

When they were both standing guard by the campfire, the bard unexpectedly spoke up. "Do you remember our discussion?"

Startled by the sudden words, Crestacia almost jumped up. "Yes, of course I do."

"I just wanted to tell you that you were right." From across the fire, the other woman showed her a gentle smile. "I know now that I am not like Marjolaine. Sometimes it takes another to show us the truths we hide from ourselves. And for that, I thank you."

"Oh..." The elven girl felt a warm blush creep into her face. "It was my pleasure," she replied shyly.

Leliana loved that about her companion; that one moment she was full of confidence, and painfully shy the next. She simply adored watching the elegant tips of those pointed ears turn a slight shade of pink, her cheeks a darker hue. It formed a nice contrast with her aquamarine eyes, the artist in her said. The bard had noticed that she had become quite fond of their fearless leader, perhaps even more fond than she should be. No, not perhaps: she was absolutely madly in love with the girl. Nobody had ever given her this feeling before. But how would she tell her? Should she tell her? Did Crestacia even have romantic feelings towards other women? She herself had known for many years that she fancied the girls more than the boys. Sure, she liked men well enough, but they only managed to warm her bed. Women, on the other hand, were also capable of warming her heart.

Here she was, a bard, supposedly a master with words, but yet she couldn't find the right ones to convey her feelings to the woman she loved. She was actually tempted to just tell her, right now, to just let the words spill from her lips in a flood of endearments.

Lately however, Crestacia had been distracted, as she was now. The young woman was silently staring into the flames, her chestnut hair illuminated by the glow. Often the bard would wonder how her love would look with her hair unwound from that tight bun, if she could run her fingers through those dark brown tresses. Ah, but there she was again, on another flight of fancy that made her heart beat rapidly in her chest. Leliana vehemently shook her head. No, now wouldn't be the best moment to bowl her friend over with a passionate declaration of love.

~*|'-'|*~

During their stay at an obscure inn in Denerim, neither Crestacia nor Leliana could sleep. Both they tossed and turned in their beds, thinking heated thoughts of the other. They had touched themselves, eyes closed, pretending they were not alone, hands trailing down their bodies, massaging their breasts, their nipples, trained fingers stroking them into climax. A frustrated climax, because in fact they were all by themselves and those hands were their own.

'I cannot go on like this any longer,' Crestacia thought to herself. Just as she had lit her lamp and was gathering her resolve to go to Leliana, to tell her how she felt, there was a knock on her door. Wondering who would be bothering her at this time of night, the girl padded to the door and opened it. Lo and behold, it was none other than her love.

Leliana gulped when the door opened and she saw the elven girl standing on the other side. She was wearing a blue nightgown, tight and slightly transparent. Like most elves, Crestacia was slim and graceful, but she had curves in all the right places. When the bard had finally made up her mind to go and tell the mage about her feelings, she hadn't expected this beautiful sight.

"I couldn't sleep," she whispered. "May I come in?"

Crestacia nodded. "Of course." Once inside, she gestured for her guest to sit on the bed. "Are you... feeling better about what happened with Marjolaine?" she asked timidly, her resolve vanished into thin air.

"Yes, a little better." Leliana settled herself comfortably on the soft mattress and smiled. Marjolaine was the last thing on her mind now. "I have something I need to tell you. Come, sit."

The other girl obediently did as she was told. "Yes? Is there something I can do for you?" Being this close to her love always made Crestacia feel very hot. Inwardly she cursed the blood rushing to her face. Why was she so damned easy to blush?

"I just wanted to tell you, I..." Leliana sighed. She had written so many poems, knew so many songs, and yet, in the presence of this blushing beauty no eloquent words would come to her. Some bard she was. "You are a joy to be around, I feel safe when I'm with you and I... You're my friend, but sometimes I think we could be more than that." Collecting all of her courage, she finally said: "I love you." Not the most articulate of speeches, but the redhead thought the message should be clear. Even if her affections would not be reciprocated, she felt relieved just saying it.

Crestacia was stunned. Her friend's words tumbled through her mind at a dizzying speed. What should she say? Clearly they shared the same feelings and in fact there was only one thing she could say: "I love you too."

These four magic words came out in a tiny, trembling whisper and set the bard's heart aflame. Now the time for words was done and there could be only action. Scooting a little closer to her beloved, Leliana cupped the girl's face in her hands and slowly, slowly approached to brush her lips against the other's.

Even that slight contact sent a shiver down Crestacia's spine and made her sigh softly in delight. Leliana immediately made use of her parted lips, gently slipping her tongue into the elven girl's mouth. When their tongues touched, it felt like an electric current travelled through their bodies.

This time the inexperienced young mage uttered a surprised moan. Somewhere inside of her, instinct awakened and she wrapped her arms around Leliana's narrow waist to pull her closer, to feel her body against her own. Their tongues danced around one another, teased and caressed.

The bard's white, impossibly frilly nightgown didn't cling to her body, for which Crestacia was very grateful. Her delicate hand abandoned its place around the other's waist and found its way under the dress, up her smooth thigh. Despite her previous anxiety, the mage was now almost bursting with confidence. Only one word pounded through her brain: _want_ , _want_ , _want_... When her searching fingers had reached her sweetheart's panties, a hand stopped her.

"Not yet, my dearest," Leliana whispered tenderly. "Let me show you first how much I love you. I've waited for this for so long." And so she gently laid her companion down on the bed, eyes sparkling, lips curved into a loving smile.

The elf simply nodded in response, all coherent thought gone from her mind, let alone the ability to form proper words. Lost in those radiant blue eyes, she was unable to do anything but stare up at the lovely woman who was now straddling her hips. But her reverie didn't last long as the redhead slowly stripped off her nightgown to reveal a lacy camisole and equally lacy panties. Abruptly the young woman snapped out of it and reached up, tracing her lover's ribcage, the curve of her waist, of her hip. The breasts she would save for later.

Leliana bent down to kiss her again, revelling in feeling her soft lips, tasting her sweet tongue. Soon the bard's voluptuous lips travelled down the silky skin of Crestacia's neck; carefully she nipped and nibbled, kissed and licked. The mage could only sigh and moan under her ministrations, eyes closed. Never before had she felt this loved and downright spoiled. Slowly the straps of her dress slipped down her shoulders, lower and lower, baring her breasts.

When soft lips closed around her hard nipple, followed by a massaging hand, the young mage arched her back and moaned loudly. For a moment Leliana stopped to admire her beloved's bosom. Crestacia had the cutest breasts she had ever seen; they were small and perky, the perfect size to play with, adorned with crimson nipples. They looked as sweet as their owner. Said owner whimpered from the lack of her lover's touch, opening her eyes to see what was going on.

"Aren't you eager?" the bard giggled before pouring all of her attention into the breasts before her once more. The sound of her laughter and lilting accent gave the other girl goose bumps.

Softly Crestacia moaned her love's name, running her fingers through her short hair. "I just love your voice."

"Really? You are so sweet." Leliana smiled and moved up again. "I love everything about you. Your eyes..." A kiss just above each eye. "Your precious little nose..." A kiss on the tip of her nose. "Your beautiful lips..." Here she lingered longer, savouring the feel of those lips. "And how could I forget your ears?" she concluded, playfully nipping at one of the pointed ends. "You are a beautiful creature."

Crestacia giggled. "So are you." Taking advantage of her sweetheart's exposed neck, she covered it with tiny kisses. Her hands moved down her back to squeeze the bard's round bottom. "Hmm nice," she muttered. "Very nice." The elf felt very bold and so quickly flipped them over, switching their positions.

"Naughty, naughty," Leliana chided. She clicked her tongue in mock annoyance and got back on top. "You will get your turn, I promise. Now be a good girl and let me play with you..." Her hand crept up the mage's thigh, higher and higher, until it had found its prize.

When those fingers brushed her eager wetness, Crestacia gasped. Down there nobody had touched her but herself. And now this beautiful, worldly woman slipped her hand into her panties and began teasingly stroking her there, avoiding her most sensitive area.

Leliana was surprised by the amount of moisture that coated her fingers; they had only just begun and already the juices were flowing copiously. And the moaning sounds she elicited by simply caressing her swollen lips... Very promising. Suddenly she felt the urge to bring her beloved to climax, to watch her writhe in ecstasy under her touch. An urge she gladly gave in to. Her skilful fingers quickly found the girl's little pulsating bump.

Only a few gentle strokes, and Crestacia experienced the most spectacular orgasm of her life. Maybe it was because Leliana was really good, maybe it was because she wasn't doing it herself, but the waves of pleasure flowing through her body were more intense than they had ever been, her moans louder. Stars sparkled at the edge of her vision when she opened them afterwards, greeted by the sight of her lover smiling down upon her.

Crestacia's face contorting into a mask of pure pleasure, moans coming from between her parted lips, was the most beautiful thing the bard had ever seen. Right now she was thanking her lucky stars she had found this wonderful creature. Bringing her hand up to her face, she inhaled deeply. 'Hmm, such a nice scent,' she thought. She found that the taste pleased her too as she licked the wetness off her fingers. Salty and sweet at the same time.

With wide eyes the elf watched her lover taste her juices. Swallowing away the lump in her throat, the desire to do the same to the other. "Please, show me how to touch you," she begged. Her hands were almost itching to caress every inch of bare skin she could find.

"I don't think you need me to show you anything," the redhead purred. "Just do what your mind, your _body_ tells you to." She positioned herself next to the mage, pulling her onto herself.

In one fluid motion Crestacia removed the lacy camisole that was (barely) hiding her love's shapely body. Leliana quickly raised her arms to help her; her short red hair came away dishevelled when her top passed her head. The elven girl giggled at the sight, only used to seeing every strand impeccably in place. Lovingly she tidied the bard's hair before kissing her with great tenderness. Her hands cupped her soft breasts, larger and less perky than her own, but no less beautiful. She squeezed gently and rolled the nipples between thumb and forefinger as she often did to herself. Soon her mouth followed her hands.

Moaning softly, Leliana's trembling hands removed every pin that held Crestacia's bun together until it uncoiled all on its own and chestnut hair fell around her face like a gossamer curtain. She let the dark tresses slip through her fingers, just as she so often had imagined. It felt softer and smoother than she could ever have thought it would. But finally getting to touch her hair was nothing compared to feeling her love's lips around her nipple, her tongue flicking along the tip. Her moaning increased in intensity and her hands reflexively gripped the dark hair that surrounded her.

Previously Crestacia had her eyes closed, simply exploring Leliana's body by feel. She was shocked when she opened them, because her love's skin was littered with scars. Momentarily she was confused, until she remembered that the bard had been tortured back in Orlais. Her heart was overflowing with love and pity as she showered her with kisses, paying special attention to the old wounds.

Worry came over the redhead when the elven girl's caresses halted, worry that she would not find her beautiful with all those unsightly scars. But then the kisses returned with a vengeance and she uttered a sigh of both relief and delight.

Crestacia made her way down her lover's toned stomach, kissing and nibbling. When she had reached the edge of her panties, she slowly pulled them down and kissed every bit of skin that was revealed. After what seemed like an eternity, the tiny garment was gone and casually thrown away. Gently she spread the other woman's creamy thighs to admire the area in between. It had a pale shade of pink, the lips swollen and glistening with anticipation. She bent down to get a taste.

"Wait!" Leliana suddenly exclaimed.

Crestacia raised her head. "Hmm?" The indescribable scent of the bard's honey pot teased her nostrils. So close, and yet so far.

"We can please each other at the same time, you know." The redhead's voice had a mischievous tone to it, her eyes a naughty glitter. She lay on her side and directed the other to lay down so they were head to crotch.

"Just a moment." The mage quickly shed her remaining clothing before following the directions. In seconds she had buried her face in her companion's lap.

Leliana smiled at her enthusiasm and followed her example. Coating her finger in her love's slick juices, she slowly slipped it between her wet lips. The moist flesh clung to her incredibly tightly; the bard in her felt proud to be the first to touch this pure young woman.

Crestacia bit her lip when she felt that finger enter her. It hurt, yet only a little; the pleasure was far greater. But then she realized she shouldn't be panting into Leliana's nether lips like an oxygen-deprived fish; she should be making her feel as good as she was feeling now. So she mimicked what the other was doing and entered her with a thoroughly moistened finger. The soft walls contracted around it; she revelled in feeling that softness, that wetness. She licked around her finger and the sweet taste made her dizzy. A low purring noise tumbled from her love's lips.

It was a surprise for Leliana, to feel the mage treat her like that. But as they say, monkey see, monkey do. And this monkey was a quick learner. Eagerly the redhead lapped up the juices leaking out of her beloved; they were now flowing so abundantly she couldn't even keep up. Finally she gave up on it and turned to gently circling her pulsating bud, which was practically begging for her attention. Her finger moved in and out of her smoothly. An intense sting of pure pleasure stabbed into her stomach when Crestacia mimicked her again, running her tongue along her clitoris.

The lovers lavished each other with attention, a thin layer of sweat forming on their bodies. Crestacia was the first to experience her release, but was soon followed over the edge by Leliana. Together they climaxed; they quivered and writhed as the waves of ecstasy flowed through them.

After this first joint orgasm, many more followed. Outside the sun was already coming up when the lovers nestled into each other's arms, heavy with fatigue and satisfaction. Sleep came easily to them, knowing that they had finally found the one thing that could make them complete. 


	2. The Commander and the Qunari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Elissa asks Sten to gather information for her in Amaranthine; things don't quite go as anybody had planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a friend, who for some reason or other wanted me to add a chapter to a story she had already written. She subsequently could never be bothered to submit this - fabulous friend - so I shall bloody well submit it myself.

## The Commander and the Qunari

"Sten." Queen Elissa Cousland warmly smiled at her old companion. "I need you to find something out for me."

The Qunari could barely believe his ears. "You have me come over from Seheron, for information?" His tone was calm, though inside, his blood was slowly coming to a boiling point. "Couldn't you have sent for the bard, or the assassin?"

"Indeed I could have." Her Highness rose from her almost ridiculously decorated chair, still smiling her gentle smile. "But you I trust more than I trust them."

"Why? They are both trained for the gathering of information, whereas I am trained for combat." Sten would never understand the woman he had come to call _kadan_ , no matter how much he trusted her. He did trust her. Even if he sometimes hardly knew why.

Defiantly Elissa looked up at the Qunari. "Zevran and Leliana bloody _flaunt_ who they are and what they can do. I believe that due to your sincere demeanour, the Warden-Commander will trust you. Enough to tell you all about her Warden Nathaniel Howe."

"Why are you interested in this Howe?" Sten queried. The name rang a bell; he remembered fighting his way through the Arl of Denerim's palace. That Arl's family name had also been Howe.

"Er..." The Queen unexpectedly averted her gaze, her cheeks blushing a slight red. "It is somewhat of a personal interest, I must admit. But will you help me, Sten?" When her icy blue eyes were fixed on Sten's violet ones again, her gaze was as unwavering as always.

The Qunari nodded. "I will."

~*|'-'|*~

The Warden-Commander's blue eyes widened almost imperceptibly as her gaze fell on her visitor. She had never seen a Qunari before. He was easily two heads taller than she, his chest so broad _two_ of her could easily lie upon it. And the Commander wasn't exactly a slight wisp of a girl. Images of seeing the giant stranger stripped to his bronzed skin and on his knees with his face between her thighs began assaulting her mind. She gritted her teeth. Ridiculous. If her last encounter with Nathaniel hadn't been such a long time ago, such thoughts would never even have crossed her mind. Finally having found her speech once again, the Commander bowed and spoke: "Welcome, ser. Her Highness the Queen has already informed me of your arrival."

"I am Sten of the Beresaad," the giant introduced himself. "I trust that the Queen has already informed you of why I am here." He had turned down the offer Elissa had made him of a platoon of soldiers, all armed to the teeth, to escort him to Amaranthine. They would only slow him down, and no matter how much the Queen liked to show off the power she wielded, he believed those soldiers would have something better to do.

"Indeed she has. Now, however, it is too late. All Wardens and recruits have already retired for the night." Queen Elissa had mentioned in her letter that this Sten was here to oversee the status of the Fereldan Grey Wardens, but Commander Caron couldn't shake the feeling that the Qunari also had a different purpose in coming to Amaranthine. Upon a single clap of her hands, a young elven servant appeared. "Madeleine, please show the gentleman to his quarters."

The girl curtsied. "Of course, Commander. This way, ser."

~*|'-'|*~

Sten had a hard time sleeping. The bed was more comfortable than he was used to, and more than large enough for his frame; he was tired from travelling all this way, and yet, sleep would not come to claim him. The Warden-Commander continued bouncing through his head. He was struck by her voluptuous appearance; by the breasts that were too bountiful to fit in even _his_ hands; the small waist, accentuated with a corset, that melted into ample hips; firm, shapely legs in thick silk stockings. The deep, husky sound of her voice and her lilting accent had reverberated deep in his gut. And lower. It had been far too long since he'd bedded a woman.

With an exasperated grunt, Sten sat upright in his bed. Perhaps he would feel better after some exploration of Vigil's Keep. It was impossible to keep the Commander's scent from his mind. She smelled sweet, womanly; her delicious scent was laced with more than a hint of desire. And when she had called for the servant, her breasts had jiggled in a manner that almost made him dizzy. The cold stone felt good under his bare feet, he noted with satisfaction. It distracted him, managed to slightly clear his head.

But then he passed a door that was slightly ajar, and the muffled mewls of pleasure drifting from inside brought back the hazy fog of lust enveloping his brain full force. Without thinking, Sten peeked into the room. On a bed even more luxurious than his own, lay the Warden-Commander. She was wearing nothing more than a slightly transparent nightgown that left hardly anything of her luscious figure to the imagination. Her well-formed legs were parted wide, one hand busily rubbing between them. Each rubbing motion made her breasts jiggle enticingly. Of the other hand, she was biting the index finger to presumably keep her moans down. It wasn't working. To the Qunari's keen senses, her noises were deafening, the smell of her arousal enough to drown out everything else.

Acting purely on his instincts, Sten strode into the room. Immediately Commander Caron snapped to and tried to hide her precarious position. One arm clasped around her bosom and her legs protectively closed, she stammered: "What-what are you doing here? This is an outrage!" Her usual composure quickly returned. "How dare you just barge into my private quarters? I will have you banished from Amaranthine, you will never-..."

Sten did not afford her much more time to continue her angered rant. In a split second he was upon the bed, and upon _her_. Her words ceased as he conquered her mouth in a searing kiss. The lady's resistance immediately melted under his touch, like snow on an unexpectedly hot winter day. She marvelled at the softness of the man's full lips. Somewhere in the back of her mind was a little voice that reminded her of her handsome rogue. He had brought her so much pleasure since their first time together, and now she was allowing some stranger to paw her like this? Caron easily shrugged it off. It had been weeks since the last time, and he had spent more time with that skinny bitch Velanna than she would like him to. And what's more: they had never agreed to be exclusively with one another. That really did it for her. Sighing softly, she draped her arms around the Qunari's neck. The feeling of his body, so muscular and hard, was entirely different from Nate's.

The warmth and the softness of her body sent the warrior's senses into overdrive. Mad with desire he tore the flimsy garment away, eliciting a few protests. They failed to register. His large and rough (yet strangely gentle) hands roamed her velvet skin. From her mountainous breasts to her soft, plump belly and fleshy hips, she was all woman. A displeased whimper fell from her lips the moment he broke their kiss, boring his unusually coloured eyes into hers. They were looking for permission, which she readily gave. Her greyish blue eyes were oozing with desire, her body did the talking. There was no need for spoken words.

Satisfied that he was doing nothing against the Commander's will, Sten continued his descent down her neck. There too the skin was silky smooth, her quick pulse thrumming against his eagerly nipping mouth. She gasped in surprise when his hands seized her breasts. The massage to her firm flesh was rough, the way he rolled her stiff nipples between thumb and forefinger almost lovingly tender. Her pink folds, already slick and wet with the pleasure she had given herself, were almost dripping at this point. This only got worse when the Qunari kissed his way down the valley between her breasts. His lips burned on her skin with need and animal lust.

A delighted little whimper fell from the Commander's throat with each touch. Every little thing the man did felt like pure magic. Nathaniel, his skilled fingers, his fine cock, his annoying habit to spend so much time with the cantankerous elf; they were all but forgotten. Caron had fully surrendered. When the stranger slipped a large finger deep into her, her back arched off the bed in pure pleasure. His finger alone almost felt like a cock. Obviously he knew what he was doing. Her insides almost melted as the Qunari's thick finger curled up and rubbed against something that made her see stars behind her eyelids. The Warden-Commander's slight mewls turned into veritable screams of bliss as Sten's thumb joined in the effort, teasing her yearning bud.

Not without satisfaction, Sten watched as the voluptuous young woman climaxed under his attentions. Her body turned tight as a bowstring, her hands clawed at the silk sheets. A great amount of hot liquid gushed onto his hand. As she writhed and wriggled in pleasure, a particularly loud and long-drawn scream passed from between her lips. Neither of them cared. All he wanted to do while she was lying there in an orgasmic stupor, was to drive himself all the way into her and recklessly fuck her until she was crying in pleasure, and perhaps pain. And yet, despite his lust-driven temporary insanity, the warrior knew that this would be unwise. The Commander was a human woman, after all; she was bound to be too small to immediately accommodate him.

All of a sudden, Sten recalled something he had pushed from his mind. A long time ago, he had accidentally walked in on the female Warden and her lover while they were engaged in one of their mating activities. The elf had his face between the noblewoman's legs, which she seemed to enjoy immensely. They were so absorbed in this, that they hadn't even noticed his presence. The Qunari immediately dismissed this oral stimulation as a human or elven quirk; for Qunari, it was unthinkable to get their faces so close to their partner's genitals. Not that witnessing this quirk hadn't piqued his curiosity. And now he had the chance to satisfy it.

Caron whimpered sadly as the hands on her breasts disappeared, the finger pulled away from her. But then she felt a gust of warm breath pass over her sex, and the feeling of loss was replaced with one of anticipation. Her hands tangled into her bed-partner's tightly woven braids; an ecstatic moan sounded upon the first tentative touch of his tongue.

This was the first time that Sten of the Beresaad tasted a woman. He found that he liked this unusual flavour, so impossible to succinctly describe. At first his tongue moved erratically, eager as he was to get as much of the delectable liquid as he could, until he decided to focus on her pleasure instead. And eventually his own; he had become so hard that it hurt, that he might burst forth from his trousers at any second. Not hurting the Commander though, was his first priority. His flexible tongue curled around her clit, still sensitive from the previous stimulation. Swiftly he thrust a finger into her slick folds while he licked her to another climax. One finger became two, then three. So easily her flesh gave way to him. She was almost ready to receive him.

~*|'-'|*~

Nathaniel's lips curled into a delighted smirk, as soon as he heard his Commander's pleasured moans drifting from inside her bedroom. She'd apparently already begun without him. From inside the same room, a masculine grunt sounded. The rogue's blood froze in his veins; his smirk vanished; he nearly dropped the two delicate crystal glasses and matching carafe, containing their favourite wine.

~*|'-'|*~

Caron howled as maddening waves of climactic bliss overtook her body once again. Her legs closed around Sten's head, her hips ground into his face to intensify the contact. She'd stopped thinking a while ago; all she could do was enjoy herself, sometimes even sob with unadulterated joy. All this time without any substantial release, and now _this_? Warden-Commander Caron felt as if she were in one of her insanely erotic dreams. Perhaps this was the case... It made her even more determined to have her cake and eat it too.

Smirking like the cat that got the cream, the Orlesian mage released the Qunari, who emerged gasping from between her thighs. She pushed the surprised man onto his back and tore off his shirt with unexpected force. Her smile turned even wider at the sight of his spectacularly shaped upper body. All corded muscle and bronzed skin. With the fluid movements of a stalking cat, Caron crawled over her guest's prone body. With lips, tongue and teeth she plied the muscular expanse.

The young woman's feral movements nearly drove poor Sten insane. Her tantalizing attentions even more so. She conducted herself with the arrogance of one in absolute control. In the mating habits of his own people, that would be his part. When in Ferelden, though, he was more than happy to let the curvaceous Commander play the dominant role. Her hand touched his engorged cock, eliciting a half-surprised, half-shocked gasp from her. The Qunari felt how the laces were untied, and his pants eased down his hips. After her initial anger at his boldness, this was the first time the Commander spoke again: " _Sacré_!". The enticing foreign word sent a jolt of pleasure right into his cock.

Her eyes nearly rolled from their sockets at the sight of him. Unfeasibly long and thick, but Caron enjoyed a challenge. Biting her lip, she ran her hand up his length and coaxed forth a low groan. The time had come to enjoy the main event. After swiftly straddling the man's waist, she grabbed the large organ and rubbed the tip against her entrance. She was wet and ready for him. Ever so slowly she impaled herself on his cock; her flesh easily yielded to his incredible girth. An eternity of careful manoeuvring left her filled to the brim. The Orlesian threw back her head and moaned in ecstasy.

So tight. So wet. So hot. Sten grunted in appreciation at the slick walls contracting tightly around him. His fingers dug deep into the soft flesh of her hips as he was restraining himself from simply thrusting into her. She would need a moment to adjust, and a moment was all he would give her. Short, swallow upward thrusts had the mage squirming on the end of his cock. Pinned down like a beautiful butterfly under glass. Caron didn't care that she wasn't fully in control anymore. One hand teasing a hard nipple and the other flicking her swollen clit, she allowed Sten to pound his cock into her over and over again.

~*|'-'|*~

From his hiding place in the shadows, Nathaniel Howe listened to the sounds of beastly congress the Warden-Commander and the unknown male were producing. He couldn't bear to watch. Still, the thought of Caron's jiggling breasts and hearing her breathless moans made his pants feel achingly tight. He was going to have to take care of that himself later on.

~*|'-'|*~

Caron was _so_ wet. She had already stroked herself to at least three orgasms while the Qunari was pumping into her, and still he didn't seem close to his own ending. The man was nothing short of amazing. Too far gone to truly notice it anyway, the Commander made no protest at all when he effortlessly picked her up and laid her face down on the bed. In one smooth thrust, Sten re-entered her moist heat from behind. She felt even tighter this way.

All the mage could do, was whimper helplessly into her fluffy pillow. Satisfaction had already claimed her, or so she thought. One particularly hard thrust and she was screaming again. If it weren't for the muffling effect of her pillow, all of the denizens of Vigil's Keep would have awoken. Her plump behind jiggled deliciously whenever Sten rammed himself into her as far as he could, the sight and feel of which brought the man closer and closer to his peak. He decided she should join him. Reaching around her hip, the warrior wrestled his way through the bunched up bed covers to reach her little nub. Instinctively Caron raised her hips to help him.

A few strokes of his finger blew the Commander's mind yet again. An earth-shattering, mind-numbing climax conquered her entire system for the... She didn't even know how many times it had been. Her tight channel contracted around Sten's throbbing erection, milking him for all he was worth. While Caron was mewling away in pleasure, the Qunari finally let loose with a roar as he filled her with his seed.

Fully sated, Warden-Commander Caron settled into her luxurious bed. There was a long, comfortable night of sleep in her foreseeable future. For a few moments, Sten waited until his breathing had returned to normal and his heart ceased hammering in this insane rhythm. His spectacular frame was covered in a thin layer of sweat. At last he simply retreated from inside her, carefully covered her almost purring form with her blanket.

Almost as quietly as he had entered, he left again. "Goodnight," he rumbled over his shoulder.

Caron smiled lazily in response. "Goodnight."

~*|'-'|*~

Nathaniel watched the stranger leave. He had never seen this particular tall gentleman before. Inside he was boiling with rage, even if his face looked as placid as it always did. He felt the urge to slip a poisoned dagger into the man's spine, but that would hardly be fair. No doubt he had no idea that the Commander was already spoken for. The fact that she had chosen to lie with another was all his own fault, really. He hadn't made it clear enough that Caron belonged to him, and him alone. It was about time he marked his territory. Quietly he stalked to his room.

"Oh hey Nate!" Anders cheerfully greeted him in the hallway. "Ser Pounce and I were just about to get ourselves a nice glass of milk."

"Meow!" sounded from within his robes.

The rogue didn't even reply. He just glared at the unwitting mage as he walked past him. Baffled, Anders watched him go. "Gee, Pounce, I wonder what crawled up his backside and died?"

The kitten poked his head out. "Meow?"

~*|'-'|*~

**Epilogue**

"Sten!" Beaming like a child in a sweetshop, Elissa stormed down the stairs to greet her guest. "How did it go? What have you found out about Nathaniel?"

Inwardly, the Sten groaned. He knew he had forgotten _something_.

 


	3. The Jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young woman who delivers mail to Vigil's Keep gets very nervous around the Grey Wardens. Anders decides to help her get rid of her jitters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was told fairly recently this seems out of character for Anders. This story was written way before Dragon Age 2, so it's easy to say that now. Challenged to write this by the shitty friend for whom I wrote the previous chapter.

## The Jitters 

"Do you have any mail for me?" the Commander asks amiably.

Nevertheless, the private the question was directed at, is obviously startled. "B-blimey! Hello, Commander of the Grey." Her wide brown eyes grow even wider. She fidgets nervously. "Just give me a moment..." Hands shaking, she begins rummaging through a bag at her feet.

Anders smiles thoughtfully. The soldier is very pretty, and her twitchy behaviour in front of the illustrious Warden-Commander irresistibly adorable. While the Commander walks off with the letters, Oghren and Velanna trailing behind her, he lingers near the nervous private. Casually he sidles up to her. "Why does our Commander intimidate you so?"

"Eep!" The girl jumps in fright. "Well, to be perfectly honest, ser mage..." She chuckles awkwardly. "As you can see, you all do." Her face pulls into a funny expression when her nervous habit kicks in. Chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Anders raises an amused eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm scary?"

"Oh no, ser, not at all!" she blurts out. "It's just... You Grey Wardens are an impressive lot, you know? Defeating the Blight, ending the war. Killing those terrible darkspawn." Her cheeks colour pink as she stealthily studies the mage's face. He is quite handsome, and rather broad too. She's always heard mages are more prone to be thin and weak. Or overweight and weak. Not this one though. He seems to be in great shape.

"Nothing to be intimidated about. We're just normal men and women, I assure you." Then the taint swimming through his veins comes to mind, and he grins wryly. "Mostly." With a kind smile, he lays his arm around the young woman's shoulders. "Now, why don't I just show you around, and you can see for yourself there's nothing to be intimidated about."

She freezes and blushes even more furiously, being pressed so close to a man's body. "I... er, of course. I would like that, ser." The time for mail delivery has already passed, and who is she to deny a kind suggestion from a handsome man?

"So what's your name?" Anders asks as he guides her into the main building of Vigil's Keep.

"I-it's Ashleigh, Warden." Still biting on the inside of her cheek, she looks around nervously. This place seems even bigger than it looks from the outside. From the corner of her eye, she peeks at her companion. He is getting more and more attractive by the minute.

He smiles. "Lovely name. I'm Anders. All right? Not ser, not Warden, just Anders."

"Yes, se... I mean, Anders." She has to restrain herself from sighing in relief when his arm leaves her. The first room he's guided her into is large and luxurious, book cases lining the walls, an enormous pyre burning right smack dab in the middle of the place. The ceiling is supported with massive wooden beams and pillars. At the far end is a throne, on which the Commander is seated. Or well, seated. One leg slung over an armrest, the woman is half lying in her throne while reading her letters.

"Commander." The mage brings his companion before her. "This is Ashleigh."

The Commander looks up. "Oh, hey Anders. Look, I got a letter from..." Absently she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I tend to forget my manners. Nice to meet you, Ashleigh. It hadn't even occurred to me to ask your name. Forgive me."

The soldier is slightly confused at the rueful look the high-ranking Grey Warden sends her. "Oh, n-no, it is no problem, Commander. I merely bring you your mail."

"Merely? Mail is very important." Chuckling to herself, the Commander rises from her seat. "It's good to know your name. Now we can stop referring to you as Mail Girl." Ashleigh notices for the very first time that the person she so looks up to, the Hero of Ferelden herself, stands a full head shorter than she. The women shake hands, with the Warden introducing herself by name. "Are you giving her a tour of the place, Anders?"

"I certainly am. Care to join us?" He grins unconsciously at the prospect of having a girl on each side, his arms wrapped around their shoulders.

Recognizing the expression on his face, his commanding officer laughs. "No, thanks. I need to write a reply to my letter. It was nice meeting you, Ashleigh." And so the Commander returns to her letters, draping herself across her throne once more. She waves casually when the mage and the private walk away.

"That wasn't so terrible, was it?" Reassuringly he pats the young woman on her back.

"No, not at all." Ashleigh smiles sweetly. "She seems nice. And so normal too."

The mage snickers under his breath. "Oh, trust me, she is anything but normal. But she's not stuck up at all." He pushes open a door. "All right, next stop: the kitchen."

They arrive just in time to see Sigrun do a victory dance. "Bow to the queen of Diamondback!" she shouts triumphantly, throwing around the cards she has in her hand.

"All right, all right." With a heavy sigh, Oghren gets off his chair and prostrates himself before his fellow dwarf. "All hail Queen Sigrun," he mumbles, obviously full of reluctance.

The self-proclaimed queen turns and offers a broad smile to the visitors. "Hi, Anders! Who'd you bring? Oh, you're the one who brings us mail, aren't you?" She grabs the flabbergasted soldier's hand and enthusiastically pumps it up and down. "I'm Sigrun. Would you like to play Diamondback with us? Just so you know: I always win."

Oghren raises his face off the kitchen floor. "Hey. Name's Oghren the Magnificent, one of the finest warriors in all of Orz..."

"Yeah, right," Sigrun cuts him off. "Believe me, he's not so magnificent."

"You just say that because you haven't given me the chance to prove myself." Wiggling his eyebrows, he shoots the dwarven girl a lustful look. In response, she shivers as if an eel is squirming down her back.

Anders groans. "All right you guys, enough fooling around. I'm just giving Ashleigh here the grand tour of Vigil's Keep."

"Hi." Ashleigh shyly raises her hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you all."

Noticing Oghren's eyes moving to the girl's chest, the mage quickly spins her around. "Let's just continue the tour, shall we?"

The next half hour the nervous soldier's senses are assaulted with new impressions, gradually reducing her nerves. Vigil's Keep is an immense fortress, filled with many rooms and chambers. She meets an unfriendly elven woman, whose calculating gaze sends cold shivers down her spine. Velanna. If they were to never meet again, Ashleigh certainly won't mind. Nathaniel is an entirely different case. Very handsome and not unkind. Sadly he is too busy making poisons to pay much attention to her. The one they call Justice creeps her out just a little. He seems nice enough, but he looks so unhealthy. Almost as if he were decaying. She shudders. Creepy.

With a dreamy sigh, the soldier steals a glance at Anders' backside as he pours them some glasses of wine. She is relaxed enough to sit on his bed and be alone in his bedroom with him, albeit only barely. He's gone through all the trouble of assuaging her jitters vis-à-vis the Grey Wardens, but her heart is still beating wildly. Maybe that is because she's so madly attracted to him. With a few whispered words of thanks she accepts her glass. "Uhm, nice room you have."

"Thanks." The mage settles himself beside her. "I didn't decorate it myself though; it was this way when I moved in."

"So you didn't install these shackles here?" Her curiosity gets the better of her. Giving them a funny look, Ashleigh inspects the bonds with her fingers. "The inside is lined with fabric." Silk, from the feel of it. After a few more draughts of the wine, heat begins rushing through her veins. Swiftly she drains her glass, licking her lips in relish.

Anders grins at several fond memories. He hasn't installed those shackles himself, but they have seen their use. Plenty of it too. Fun days. "No, I didn't," he finally replies.

"You know..." For some reason, the soldier is feeling awfully flushed. Dizzy. Excited. She giggles and sets down her glass on the nightstand. "I've always wondered what it would be like to be... dominated." So hot. She plucks at her armour, pulling off her gloves and working the buckles until she sits on the bed in her white linen tunic. A breast band is absent; whenever possible, Ashleigh goes without one, and this is just one of those days.

"I can help." Her barely veiled invitation sets his blood on fire. Anders crawls over her like a wild animal, a low growl issuing forth from deep within his throat. She playfully shuffles out of his reach, giggling all the while, until her back is pressed against the headboard. Trapped. "I'll show you exactly how it feels to be dominated," he whispers heatedly into her ear.

The hoarseness that has crept into her companion's voice gives the girl goose bumps. Sighing happily, she makes to wrap her arms around his neck, but finds that she can't. She's already been shackled, arms suspended well above her head. "You sure work fast."

Anders doesn't even reply to that. He is in control, so he can do exactly as he pleases. And talking is far from his mind right now. Licking his lips, he hungrily gazes down on her. Her large brown eyes are heavy-lidded, a feverish glint sparked within them. Sweat has begun beading on her forehead. Her high cheekbones are adorned with a crimson blush that would put the prettiest of roses to shame. Excited sighs are pouring from between her parted lips. Her bosom rises and falls with her quickened breathing, nipples proudly standing at attention. The honey-infused wine, steeped with aphrodisiacal herbs, has not missed its mark. From the waist down, she is still encased in her scale mail and heavy boots. The mage immediately sets to work to correct this unpleasant situation.

One boot lands in the corner, the other ends up on the desk, her trousers casually tossed away too. So she is left in only her shirt and knickers. However, all is not yet complete. In one rapid motion, he rips her tunic open down the middle. "Hey, I was still going to wear that!" his victim squawks indignantly.

He promptly deals a stinging slap to her cheek. " _Quiet_." How he loves playing this part, dominating a meek partner who wishes nothing more than to be submitted to his every whim. He won't hurt her. Not _too_ much, anyway.

"S-sorry." Eyes averted demurely, she hangs her head. If this is what he wants, she will gladly play along. Because Maker knows she is _aching_ to be at his mercy. "Forgive me, ser."

"Ah, you learn quickly." Gently his fingers caress the red spot on her cheek. "Smart girl." His hand glides down her jaw line, her throat, to slip under her torn shirt. His thumb flicking along her nipple elicits a moan. Her flesh is soft, smooth and firm to the touch. "Very nice," he coos approvingly, cupping her breasts. The vigorous massage he applies to them makes the young woman wriggle and sigh in delight. Unconsciously she moans out his name. "What did you just call me?"

The dangerous tone of his voice causes Ashleigh to flinch. "F-forgive me, ser. Your touch is so amazing, I forgot myself."

"Smooth-talking little wench." He is appeased, from that wicked smile on his face. "But you will have to make up for that mistake." Or not. Stepping off the bed, he positions himself beside the headboard.

The private blushes more furiously as she catches sight of his obvious arousal. Robes tend to be as revealing as they are decent. A few adjustments on his part, and the blush extends all the way down her neck. The girl is suffering from a serious case of hero worship and she eagerly takes in the appearance of his exposed erection. He is nice and big, just the way she likes it. Had she been free, she'd have jumped on it like a kitten on milk.

"Open wide," Anders sings, tapping his cock against her lips. Ashleigh obediently does as she is told and receives the tip in her mouth. Reflexively she licks the opening; her reward is a taste of salty liquid and an approving groan from her tormentor. "Now start sucking and don't stop until I tell you to." He abruptly grabs her short flaxen locks with both hands, shoving himself in as far as is possible without being overly cruel.

The soldier makes a surprised noise, but quickly recovers. Bobbing her head up and down, she eagerly works her mouth along his shaft and wraps her tongue around the sensitive head. His hands, painfully tangled into her hair, direct her speed and depth. Just as she is beginning to develop a severe crick in her neck, liberation is at hand.

Anders moans under her ministrations; her mouth is hot, moist and knows what it's doing. The closer his climax approaches, the more his control slips. His hands grip her hair tighter, involuntarily his hips jerk. Eventually the sensations become so strong, he finally loses it. He keeps her head in place and thrusts into her mouth, finishing the job himself. Every thrust is deep, too deep; Ashleigh gags, yet not for long. The mage's body stills completely and with a roar he lets loose. Long strands of cum are shot into the girl's mouth. They are almost as sweet as the wine she's tasted, so she keenly drinks it in. He spends so copiously however, that she can't keep up and small trickles flow from the corners of her mouth and drip down her chin.

"Well done." Affectionately Anders ruffles her now completely messed up hair, free from the short ponytail she normally wears it in. "You've made up for your mistake." Slowly he pulls his cock from her mouth and conceals it again.

"Tha-thank you, ser," Ashleigh stutters, blushing profusely. Giving head isn't something she is exactly used to, and it shocks her a little that she's enjoyed it so much. The things one can learn shackled to an almost perfect stranger's bed.

The mage chuckles in amusement at her furious blushes. Without another word he pulls up her torn shirt until it's bunched around her wrists, hiding the shackles from sight. Her form is one to be thoroughly admired. Even though Ashleigh is quite muscular (she is a soldier after all), she has retained her womanly curves. Her breasts are perfectly round, tipped with rosy peaks, and far too large for Anders to fully contain in his hands. A small waist, slightly defined abdominal muscles, rounded hips. Simple knickers that cover a gently curving mound. Endless legs with just the right amount of visible strength in them. Her slightly tan skin, the colour of tea with plenty of cream in it, is gleaming with sweat. He smirks at the streams of his seed on her chin. Such a perfect little whore. A little whore he has great plans for.

Hanging her head in feigned shyness, the young woman is inwardly seething with arousal and curiosity. Whatever is he going to do now? She arches her back and squeals involuntarily from a tickling sensation between her breasts. Teasingly Anders taps the tip of her nose with a grey feather, a wide grin on his face; immediately her curiosity is satisfied. An uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of her stomach. Ashleigh hates tickling. Hates it thoroughly. And with her hands trapped like this, she can do nothing to fight it off. The tip of the feather lightly touching the soft hollow at the base of her throat makes her gasp.

"Ticklish, are you?" The reflexive kicking of her legs at another tickle answers his question. "In that case I need to shackle your ankles too." Smiling wickedly, he reveals another pair of shackles installed at the foot of the bed. With her legs secured as well, Ashleigh is left in a vulnerable position: her arms are fastened above her head, her legs parted wide. She is completely helpless. And Maker help her, she bloody loves it. Her panties are saturated with her juices, her clit almost aching for release.

She is creaming herself so profusely, that Anders catches a whiff of her arousal and chuckles. Nothing beats the smell of a woman in heat. Dipping his head low, he unexpectedly captures a hard nipple in his mouth. Simultaneously the feather teases swollen lips through wet fabric; she arches off the bed and shrieks, her shackled legs kicking furiously. Poor Anders is nearly knocked unconscious. Instead of slapping her again, the mage roughly grabs her by the chin. "Keep quiet and hold still," he growls warningly. "You don't want anyone else to see you in this position, do you?"

Ashleigh shakes her head. "No ser! I just... I can't stand to be tickled." A pleading look enters her gaze, a look that transmits her wish to be simply taken, for her yearning cunt to be ravished by his big cock.

Her begging eyes get the blood pumping back into the Grey Warden's loins, making him harder than he's ever been. Almost so hard that it hurts, almost so hard he feels like just positioning himself between those parted legs and fucking the defenceless girl's brains out. But what kind of pathetic torturer would he be if he were to give in so easily to a pair of pleading doe eyes? When a strategically placed tickle of the feather elicits another shriek, he reaches into his gauntlet and pulls out the small dagger concealed there. Ashleigh eyes him warily. "I'm not going to cut you," he murmurs reassuringly, softly pressing his lips to her trembling tummy. True to his word, Anders slices through the sides of her knickers instead. "But I _am_ going to gag you." And so he stuffs the soaked undergarment into her mouth. Shocked silence and fearfully staring eyes are the only answer she can give. Much to her shame, the soldier must admit that she likes the taste of her own cunt.

Lips curved into a pleased-as-punch smirk, the mage feasts his eyes on the small patch of blonde curls between her legs, and the pouting pink lips that peep out from under it. His finger becomes coated in cream to the knuckle just by running the tip between her labia; lightly grazing her clit causes a desperate humph and mad squirming. Oh, she is ever so ready to receive his attentions. He licks her sweet liquid from his finger and grins. Not that he's going to relieve her just yet. The feather traces slow circles around her left nipple, then the right, leaving her in a delightful shiver. A tear of frustration slips from her eye unbidden as Anders tickles her lips, soaking the plume with her juices. For a brief moment he torments her aching clit; she screams as well as she can and struggles frantically. Even with the padded silk lining, the metal bites into her skin.

"Now, now, my pet." His slim fingers trail down the outline of her waist and hip. "If you promise to be a good girl, I'll take care of you. Would you like that?" A teasing row of soft kisses down the inside of her thigh. He looks into her face, eyebrow cocked. "Well?"

Ashleigh nods so wildly her hair dances around her head. She would beg for him to touch her if she could. Her entire body feels unbearably hot and tense, every nerve standing on end. The area between her legs is the worst; she burns and aches, her cream flowing so abundantly a distinct wet spot is forming on the bed. Much to her relief, the feather is casually thrown away. It's become useless now that it's all wet.

Due to a dry throat, Anders leaves the girl to herself for a moment to pour himself a glass of wine. The glass hovers before his lips; isn't there a more fun way to get some moisture in him, right there on the bed? The private gives him a curious look as he approaches her, glass in hand. When a stream of cold wine hits her heated skin, she nearly swallows her knickers. The cool liquid pours down the valley between her breasts, down her taut stomach and finally into her throbbing slit. Of course, with his throat feeling as parched as an old nun's cunt, Anders is quick to catch the wine with his tongue. Mingled with the girl's juices, it tastes even better. His pliant organ dips into every nook and cranny to make sure he gets all of the delectable juices, but no matter how much he licks away, her dripping pussy keeps on producing more.

Ashleigh whimpers softly as the mage's tongue touches her clit and traces slow, lazy circles around it. Fully of their own accord, her hips make grinding motions to have him increase the pressure. To grant her the release she so desperately needs. Sadly for her, Anders plays the part of tormentor exquisitely well and dances a little further from her reach every time, keeping the stimulation gentle and slow. So the poor girl is brought to climax in a maddening way. Her legs begin trembling, her clit throbs under his touch. Almost there, almost... And then he abruptly pulls away from her.

The Warden laughs at her howl of distress. "Don't worry, my pet." Positioning himself between her legs, he makes a few adjustments to bring out his almost painfully engorged cock. "You want this, don't you?" Teasingly he taps it against her quivering mound. A desperate nod from the tortured soldier brings a wicked smile to his face. Briefly he dips his head to lick wine from her belly, drawing another series of sad mewls from her throat. So cute, so defenceless, and so utterly fuckable. Capturing her gaze with his own, the mage rubs the yearning opening with the tip of his erection. It pleases him to no end, the sight of her eyes rolling back into her head with every inch he pushes into her. Her moist, swollen flesh is tight, but wonderfully yielding. After a few moments, he is fully buried in the snug sheath. "Do you like having my cock in you?" A frantic nod. "Such a good girl." His hands reach out to caress down her ribcage, her waist, her hips. Suddenly he shoves into her hard, simultaneously pulling her down on his cock. A sound that most resembles a mixture between an anguished cry and a delighted moan issues forth from behind the wad of fabric in her mouth.

It hurts. But after a few hard thrusts, the pain fades away to be replaced with intense pleasure. Ashleigh tilts her hips to meet the Warden's vigorous strokes, purring deep within her throat at the onslaught of bliss on her senses. Then his fingers find her sensitive nub and she feels like she's dying in the most delicious way possible. Within seconds she comes; her entire body convulses as she rides the waves of climax coursing through her.

Anders smiles happily while he's fucking the soldier girl. She looks to be lost in her own little world of infinite pleasure. After her first orgasm by his hand, he allows her to recover. Still he continues pounding into her hard and without mercy; so hard, her wet cunt makes a sucking noise with every thrust. So wet, he feels a trickle of it flowing down his balls and splashing onto him whenever he is fully buried inside. Again and again he makes her come, closer and closer he is pushed to his own climax. Years of experience or no, the increasing tightness of her snatch has to do him in eventually. When it does, however, Ashleigh has lost count of how many mind-blowing orgasms those slim, trained fingers have rubbed her to.

Mage and soldier achieve their release almost simultaneously. Anders utters a raw cry as he pumps his victim's tight tunnel full of cum, his fingers digging painfully deep into the flesh of her hips. Ashleigh is too far gone to notice any potential pain; her mind is swimming in pleasure and all she can do is whimper blissfully. As soon as he's recovered, the Warden pulls out and moves to give the girl a drink. Carefully he pulls the gag from between her parted lips. "Here."

A look of gratitude in her wide brown eyes, Ashleigh drinks greedily from the water he offers to her. Her wrists are sore, and so are her ankles. "If you release me, I can hold the glass myself." The look of gratitude quickly changes into one of adoration. "That was amazing, Anders. Now, please take these shackles off me." Hungrily she eyes his still clad form, eager to rip those robes off his body.

"No." With a wide, almost evil grin Anders conjures another feather. The old Grey Warden stamina is still alive and kicking. Laughingly, he says: "What makes you think I'm done with you?"


	4. Hot and Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a certain cold night in camp, Bodahn mends a broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again a request from somebody over on Fan Fiction, who thought I didn't give enough love to Bodahn. Well, he gets loved here all right.

## Hot and Cold

They are in Denerim now, or camped close to it, at least. Bodahn sighs and shakes his head. He really should visit his wife after all this time on the road, but he doesn't relish the prospect. Things have never been very warm or affectionate between them. In their case, absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder. The woman still resents her husband for having to move to the surface after that little incident with the bracers. No love lost there; the only ones benefitting from this marriage had been the reputations of their respective houses.

It's not that they haven't tried to love one another. Maybe _she_ didn't, but Bodahn tried and tried. There is absolutely nothing at all wrong with her looks; such a pity she is always so cold and distant. The merchant chuckles at the memory of their first wedding night. What a disaster that was. His lovely wife just lay there like a dead fish as he attempted to make sense of what went where. When he finally did work out the mechanics, it was over in under a minute. The underwhelming experience has forever cured him of his curiosity regarding the act. Sex means nothing to him at all.

The only thing that truly means a lot to Bodahn is contently snoring on the bedroll beside his. Sandal may not be the best conversationalist by the campfire or the best at cooking them dinner, but he is a good boy. His heart is in the right place. That is all that matters. The fact that he knows his way around runic enchantments doesn't exactly hurt either. Wearing a fond smile, the merchant pats his foster son on the shoulder. The boy's eyes flutter open; after showcasing a sleepy, toothy grin, he dozes off again. Bodahn's heart swells with affection.

He sighs. Perhaps he should go for a little walk and clear his head. That might help him find sleep easier. Wrapped in his thick cloak, the dwarf ventures outside. It's cold enough to freeze the testicles off a brass monkey. He will probably never be used to these surface temperatures. Orzammar was always so toasty warm. The camp is quiet; the Wardens must have given up on patrolling the place at night. Or not. A series of dull thuds, interspersed with muffled curses, attract his attention. Bodahn silently makes his way to the source of the sounds.

The Grey Warden formerly known as Princess Aeducan, late King Endrin's pride and joy, appears to be in the process of punching down a tree with her bare fists. Her facial expression is one part rage and two parts grief. Tears stream down her cheeks as she continues pummelling the rough bark. There is a distinct crack every time her fists connect, pieces of wood flying off every which way. Finally the Warden sinks to her knees, clasping her bloodied hands to her face. Silent sobs shudder through her frame.

The sad sight tugs at Bodahn's heartstrings, but he doesn't really know what to do. In the end he decides he cannot simply walk away from her. He approaches; she is too caught up in her pain to notice his presence and freezes when she feels his hand on her shoulder. "My lady?" the merchant ventures tentatively.

The Warden looks up at him and tries to smile. "Oh, hello…" Her voice is thick and weepy. "You shouldn't be out and about at this hour. It's very late." She winces as her companion carefully grasps her hands. Bodahn will not fall for her obvious attempt at distraction.

"You must get this cleaned." There are splinters imbedded in her flesh – the knuckles are raw and bloody, tatters of torn skin hanging off them. "Shall I wake your healer?"

"No, Wynne needs her rest." Lady Aeducan's rosy lips curl into a forlorn smile. Her grief, whatever the reason, has softened her normally so stern features; the merchant is struck hard by his sudden realization of her beauty. "I have a few medical supplies in my tent. Will you help me, please?"

"Of course." While Bodahn is picking splinters out of the Warden's hands by lamp light, he steals the occasional glance at her face. She is enduring the no doubt painful treatment like the hardened fighter she is. All rumours he has ever heard about the young woman sing of her exceptional skill in battle: her expertise with a giant axe, the overwhelming strength of her blows, the nimbleness of her feet. Her ruthlessness, slaying her own brother in a bid for the throne, also has many a tongue wagging. No rumour, however, has ever spoken of her large, soulful eyes, the colour of an icy lake, or the natural redness of her full lips. Or even the husky, melodious sound of her voice. Lady Aeducan must be one extraordinary warrior. "Might I ask what is wrong?" asks Bodahn without thinking. He could just about kick himself for it. Surely she won't want to confide in some stranger, even if they have been travelling together for many months now.

For a while, the Warden keeps quiet. She chews her lower lip in a decidedly attractive manner. "I…" She sighs. "Back in Orzammar, my second and I were in love. When I left to join the Wardens, he said he would wait for me in Denerim." A lonely tear rolls down her cheek. "Today I finally meet him again, after all this time, and that nug-humping bastard tells me he got married to someone else and they're even expecting a child." Lady Aeducan looks away, chuckling under her breath. "Guess that was the straw that broke the bronto's back."

"What a fool," Bodahn murmurs as he gently applies a layer of salve to his fellow dwarf's injured hands. He feels a burning sensation in his cheeks as soon as the words have left his mouth. "Uh, I mean…"

The Warden laughs through her tears. "You're very sweet to say that." The sadness in her eyes becomes tinged with curiosity. "Doesn't your wife miss you, now that you're with us all the time?"

"I don't think so." The merchant wraps a bandage around his companion's knuckles, making sure it feels comfortable. "My wife and I have never been very close." He says it without any resentment or bitterness. Simply the statement of a fact.

"And you don't miss her either?" Lady Aeducan shoots him a pitying look when he nods. "That is awful." She dries her tears on her sleeve.

Bodahn shrugs. "It's just the way it is."

With a sly smile on her lips, the Warden scoots a little closer to Bodahn, who immediately begins sweating for some mysterious reason or other. When ever did it get so hot? "Well, _I_ think you're wonderful."

He looks at her in surprise. "Really? No offense, my lady, but I don't think you know me very well." Even so, he can't help blushing. Not many compliments tend to come his way.

"Don't I?" She chuckles – the sound of it sends a shiver down his spine. "I see the way you treat Sandal. Caring for him must take a lot of love and patience." Holding up her bandaged hands, she shows him a sweet smile. "And these. Thank you." Bodahn is only halfway through telling her that she is welcome when she pounces. "How about I show you some proper gratitude?" she huskily whispers into his ear, her considerable weight pressing down on his body. The pressure is far from unpleasant.

"M-my lady!" he protests weakly. "If you mean what I think… I can't." The icy glare of Mrs. Feddic comes to mind. "I told you I'm a married man." He is tempted though – so very tempted. This lady seems to know her stuff. Suddenly the idea of sex doesn't seem so uninteresting anymore. But no, he shouldn't. He couldn't. Could he?

Lady Aeducan shrugs. "So? If you don't even care about each other, why should you save yourself for her?" She sits up and blows a lock of golden hair away from her forehead, exasperated. "Aren't you just aching for a good tumble? I know I am."

Now it is Bodahn's turn to shrug. "Not really, no." He colours crimson under her probing gaze. "I just don't care for it." Although earlier this would have been the truth, it now feels like a blatant lie.

"Don't care for it?" she repeats incredulously. "Now I've heard it all." Shaking her head, she laughs merrily. At least she doesn't seem very sad anymore. Her laughter comes to an abrupt halt. "You're actually serious." Her pale eyes study his face. "So… Are you into men?" The Warden cuts off his sputtered denial with another attractive laugh. "What else could it be then?" Slowly she loosens the laces of her shirt and lets the garment slip down her shoulders. Her comely, round shoulders.

"Well, I, uh…" The merchant is having great trouble finding words. And forming coherent thoughts. "I don't…"

She grins triumphantly as she slides her shirt down to her waist and reveals her ample bosom, hidden behind a flimsy breast binder. The fabric is so thin, the dark tinge of her areolas shines right through. Why would she even tolerate such low quality? Bodahn discards it as another one of those feminine mysteries. His breath catches in his throat, watching her reveal the slightest and most enticing bit of cleavage. "You like what you see, don't you?" Her voice is utterly beguiling. The lady shifts, landing her behind on a very rigid part of his anatomy; her triumphant grin widens. She has her answer right there. Lady Aeducan bends over him, her heavy breasts against his chest, and whispers: "Just you wait until I'm done with you." The promise in her words makes him even harder than he already is.

Her lips are only a hair's breadth away from his; a fire is burning in her eyes. The merchant considers denying her, but she is right: why should he remain loyal to a wife who cares so little for him? His trembling hands move to his companion's shapely shoulders of their own accord. The skin feels so velvety soft that Bodahn has to bite back a delighted groan. "M-my lady, I-…"

"Please," she purrs. "Call me Sereda." Briefly her lips brush against his. "Now you know what to scream later." And with that, she kisses him with more fierceness and passion than he's ever thought possible. Her tongue immediately snakes its way into his mouth. She doesn't kiss him, she _attacks_ him. Assaults him as if he is a fortress that must be stormed and conquered. Bodahn has never been more turned on in his life. Her hands make short work of his tunic by ripping it to shreds; she even destroys his belt, which is of very thick and sturdy leather.

The merchant is acutely and painfully aware of the slight paunch he has grown while on the surface, often enjoying more than his fill of fine food and drink. Sereda, against all expectations, crows in delight as she strokes his belly. "So soft!" She elicits a gasp by lightly biting down on his flesh. "You remind me of my favourite doll." A delighted look is on the Warden's lovely features as she reaches up and gives Bodahn's cheek a light pinch. "Except that you're so much cuter." At this comment his face nearly goes up in flames, which amuses Sereda to no end. The blushing gets worse now she is working on his trousers in a slow and deliberate manner. She whistles at the sight of his exposed length, proudly standing at attention for her. "Mmm, very nice…" The moment those rosy lips touch him there, poor Bodahn nearly passes out. That soft, pliant feel of them, pressing a row of kisses down his throbbing shaft... The merchant props himself up on his elbows to watch. Lovely Sereda fixes her eyes on his, her little pink tongue darting out for a taste.

She is positively purring with delight as she licks his rigid rod, eyes half-lidded, then takes him between her lips. The moist, warm sensation combined with the sight of accompanying activities are more than the man can bear. Bodahn sinks back into the pillow with a groan and closes his eyes. He revels in those delicious sensations, until they abruptly change. The spectacle to which he opens his eyes is as if from an intensely erotic dream. Sereda has trapped her companion's cock between those glorious breasts of hers – their covering is nowhere to be seen – and is rubbing them up and down, her tongue lapping at the head whenever it peeps out. The spectacular orbs envelop him in a soft, velvety warmth, the wetness of her saliva ensuring a smooth glide. It is too much. Jets of pearly fluid erupt all over her face before he can warn her.

In the heat of ecstasy, Bodahn is too far gone to care. He tangles his hands into her locks and cries out her name, over and over again. So what if anybody hears them? This is the most fun he has had in years. Only half-recovered from his recent pleasure, he hears Sereda laugh: "Your turn now." Everything goes dark before his eyes. Dark, wet and warm. Fragrant. The merchant hesitantly touches his tongue to the sweet pussy hovering over his face and is rewarded with a little gasp. She tastes delicious. The more of those juices he laps up, the more she moans and squirms. The girl squirms the most and moans the loudest whenever he touches a certain hard, round nub.

Determined to repay the lovely Warden, Bodahn grips her fleshy hips to steady her. Sereda may be a tough, strong, muscular warrior, but she is soft in all the right places. While he gives her pleasure point a thorough tongue-lashing and drinks her in, the merchant revels in her delighted squeals and praises. Why can't his wife be like this? The glacial temperature of her gaze comes out poorly in comparison to Sereda's smouldering eyes. Her cool, unwilling flesh contrasts unfavourably to his companion's warm, inviting body. The more he thinks about it, the angrier he becomes. The movements of his tongue become perhaps all too vehement, but this doesn't seem to bother Sereda. She lets loose with a piercing scream, grinding herself against his face and bathing him in her delectable juices.

Bodahn, meanwhile, has managed to get his rising anger in check. This is not the time for such matters. Most tenderly he coaxes Sereda off him and onto her back. She is still sighing in bliss as he slides into her. It takes considerable effort to push in; her wet walls cling to him with a vice-like grip. The Warden wraps her strong limbs around Bodahn like ivy. With every gentle thrust, she cries out and clutches him more tightly. The merchant focuses on her pleasure and her pleasure alone. Surely the poor girl deserves it after getting her heart – the only part of her that seems to be made of less sturdy stuff – broken like that. When she utters an unfamiliar name, Bodahn pauses and wonders who this Gorim might be. Sereda buries her face in his neck and sobs quietly, her shoulders quaking. But of course. "I'm sorry," she hiccups with averted eyes as he raises himself to look at her. "I didn't mean to-…"

"If that man had had any sense in him, he would have waited for you," Bodahn cuts her off. His fingers softly caress her cheeks, until her grief-hazed eyes meet his. "You're more than worth it." All awkwardness between them is gone, all shyness abandoned. The desire to help this wonderful woman overcome her pain is what drives him now. Softly he kisses away her tears to stop them from flowing. It doesn't take long for them to do so. Sereda locks the merchant in her arms with a relieved sigh and he continues his lovemaking, slowly and gently, as if they have all the time in the world.

Perhaps this is not entirely to the lady's liking, because after a while, she lands herself on top in one smooth and sudden movement. Bodahn watches in fascination and mounting arousal, while she rocks her hips against his in an ever increasing rhythm. Dishevelled strands of gold dance around her shoulders; her head whips back every time he is fully buried inside of her, a delighted moan rolling off her tongue. Some would perhaps be put off by the clearly visible ridges of her abdominals or her bulging biceps or the swelling muscles in her thighs, but not this dwarf. Especially not with the way her bodacious breasts bounce.

Bodahn reaches out to those ripe fruits, ready for the picking. He moulds the soft, velvety flesh in his hands, plying her hard nipples between thumbs and forefingers. Sereda once again calls out a name, a different one this time. The merchant is proud to have accomplished this, even if it makes his cock swell just a bit more inside of her and brings him closer to the finish. His right hand leaves her breast to travel lower, searching a certain nub to play with. Bodahn won't be able to hold out much longer – if he gets to have his mind blown again, then so should she. He pulls down the woman on top of him, massaging her pulsating bump and claiming her lips in a passionate kiss. His hips rise to meet hers with every push. The lady utters a surprised little whimper.

Somehow the merchant manages to hold off, until she tears her mouth away from his and shrieks out her climax. His name falls from her lips again and again. The way her cunt contracts around him and profusely exudes cream soon proves to be his undoing. Growling deep inside his throat, Bodahn paints her twitching walls with his seed. Fireworks go off behind his eyelids; when he finally opens his eyes again, stars sparkle around the edges of his vision. Sereda smiles down on him, an expression of infinite satiety on her beautiful face. After blowing out her lamp, she joins him on her bedroll. The two snuggle up to each other under the covers, still breathing heavily.

"I don't get it," Sereda muses, her fingers absently playing with her lover's beard. "How does your wife not love you to bits?" Yes, why doesn't she? Having recovered some of his basic functions, anger begins bubbling in Bodahn's gut again. Doesn't he send the woman plenty of money? Doesn't she live in a house fit for a noblewoman? Doesn't she wear the best silks and furs he can get his hands on? The Warden, probably sensing his mood, soothingly strokes his arm. The anger soon ebbs away.

Bodahn shrugs and pulls Sereda into his arms. "I don't know." It's a mystery. Perhaps his wife is incapable of love. Perhaps she hates him, though he can't think of a reason why.

"Thank you for being so sweet and patient." The Warden's lips easily find his in the dark. "Anybody else would have been out of here as soon as they heard another man's name…" Sereda softly laughs to herself. The lovely lilting sound of it reverberates in her companion's stomach.

The possibility of indignantly storming out of the tent hadn't even entered Bodahn's mind. "I just want you to be happy," he says after some deliberation, blushing at his own candidness. It's the truth though.

"You're all about customer satisfaction, aren't you?" his fellow dwarf giggles. "Seriously though…" Her voice is instantly devoid of laughter; only something that sounds like shyness remains. "I think that with your help, I might well get there." She cuddles up to him, her face buried in his neck. "I still don't get it," she murmurs lazily, just before sleep claims her.

Neither does Bodahn. And now he doesn't care either. Smiling from ear to ear, he joins his sweet Sereda in slumber.


	5. A New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to popular belief, drink isn't the only thing Oghren has a weakness for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another request from someone over at Fan Fiction. I'm beginning to see a pattern here. This pattern tells me I'm a sucker.

## A New Day

The girl is an elf. An _elf_. Dainty, delicate, pretty. So, an elf. Tradition dictates that it ought to be against his nature to be attracted to this lithe creature – especially since he likes a woman with a bit of extra meat on her bones – but apparently, reality is different. Plain and simple: he can't stop thinking about her. She reminds him of Branka, minus the insanity and carpet-munching part. It didn't take him long to find out that the elven Warden possesses a mind sharper than a razor. She's tough as nails, too. The way she can handle any situation, thinking and talking in circles around everyone else, is nothing short of impressive. He admires her, really. Her unshakable confidence, her brilliant mind. Shame about the barely hidden pain behind her eyes, though; pretty face like that shouldn't be allowed to look so sad. Oghren catches himself wanting to hold her and make her pain go away, erasing his own in the process. He grunts and passes a hand over his tired eyes, taking a long pull from his new favourite bottle. The taste of the alcohol is starting to pall on him more and more as thoughts of his not-so-dear departed wife and his failure are being replaced by thoughts of the Grey Warden. He shakes his head. What in the sodding Stone is he thinking? The girl is an _elf_.

~*|'-'|*~

It so happens to be their turn to watch the camp tonight. Waste of time; nothing ever happens. Oghren has set his drink aside, not even slightly drunk for a change. The taste is like the dirtiest dirt in his mouth. He warms his hands by the fire, stealing the occasional glance at the elven Warden across from him. The poor girl is looking especially gloomy tonight; there is a sad, distant look in those beautiful eyes of hers. The dwarf wants nothing more than to sit beside her, ask her about her troubles and chase them away. Sadly, he is too afraid that he might betray his feelings. That would be awkward, he imagines. A dejected sigh draws his attention and he notices how his companion is now looking even gloomier. _Oh, sod it._

Calm on the outside, but heart raging on the inside, he saunters over to the elf and sits down beside her. "Are you all right, kid?" he asks her, lightly touching her bare arm. He shouldn't have done that; the silky skin against his fingertips is enough to send his imagination into overdrive. The sight of tears streaming down her pretty face quickly snaps him out of it. Everything happens so fast after that.

One moment she is crying against his chest while he soothingly strokes her back; the next, her lips are on his. Or his on hers. He is unsure of who exactly kissed whom to begin with. It doesn't even matter. Their mouths are joined together, tongues slowly dancing around one another, and he doesn't want it to stop. Ever.

Never breaking their kiss, Oghren picks up the nearly weightless Warden and carries her to her tent, where it will no doubt be cleaner than in his own. Once safely and gently lain on her bedroll, the girl severs their connection. She cups his face in her delicate hands and stares at him, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. "Oghren," she murmurs, a dreamy tone to her voice. "Is this really happening?"

He grins and replies: "You bet," before kissing her once more. Her lips are soft and plaint; her tongue tastes indescribably sweet. The dwarf could explore her mouth for hours and still be hungry for more. The elf, however, appears to be of an entirely different mind as her fingers are plucking impatiently at his clothes. Smiling at her enthusiasm, he allows the girl to undress him and gets to work on her in turn, until he can feel her firm breasts against his chest, divided by only the thin fabric of her breast binder.

Almost reluctantly Oghten moves his mouth away from hers. Kiss after kiss he presses to her warm, smooth skin. Down her slender neck, along her collar bones. She feels so delicate that he fears he might break her if he is too rough. His fingers tremble as he relieves the elf of her breast binder.

Two perfectly round apples greet his eyes. Her nipples, proudly standing at attention, are a pale shade of pink. They look irresistible. Ever so gently he rubs his thumbs against them, eliciting a delighted mewl. The girl's fingers tangle into his hair when he bends his head to capture a rosy peak between his teeth. She arches into him, his name on her lips. Her obvious eagerness is making his smalls feel awfully tight. Still he somehow manages to restrain himself and continues his treatment of her perfect tits, one rough hand gliding down her toned stomach.

His fingers halt mere inches above her knickers. He is deathly afraid that he will hurt this delicate little being with his thick, clumsy fingers, until the Warden impatiently yanks down her last undergarment and guides his hand between her thighs. Warm wetness coats his fingers. For the very first time, Oghren hears the elven girl laugh: "I'm not made from porcelain!" The mirth in her voice takes on a distinctly lustful tone. "You can be as rough as you want to be."

He looks down on her blushing face, a smile on his own. "What if I don't want to be at all?" She responds with an endeared noise, kissing him breathlessly and locking him in her arms. Through the haze of loving lust, the dwarf manages to focus ever so slightly. She moans into his mouth at the movements of his fingers, teasing the pronounced nub that pulses against them. It doesn't take long for her legs to begin shaking and her frame to pull taut as a bowstring. The Warden digs her nails into Oghren's shoulder blades as she comes, safely cradled against his chest. She is still panting blissfully when his mouth follows the trail of his fingers. Down her lightly muscled stomach and right between her thighs.

Satisfied sighs turn to ecstatic moans. His tongue unerringly finds the best spot to apply pressure to, a thick finger gaining possession of her twitching channel at the same time – a few tips and tricks he picked up from his late wife. Effective ones too, judging from the obvious pleasure the elven girl is deriving from his attentions. Oghren, meanwhile, has become hooked to the flavour of her, so much better than any drink that's ever passed his lips. A happy kind of drunkenness has taken over his senses as he makes her come again and again.

The taste of her juice fills his mouth, the scent of it his nostrils. Only after the Warden has been reduced to a moaning little puddle, does he tear himself away from her and lays himself down between her quivering thighs. At this point his cock is harder and thicker than it's ever been in his life. He has placed the tip at her slick entrance when she breathlessly tells him to wait. The dwarf is on his back faster than he can blink.

She flings herself down upon him, her sweet face buried in the crook of his neck and her hands roaming his body. "I've wanted you for so long," the girl breathes into his skin. He's not given much time to ponder this as her mouth and fingers suddenly appear to be everywhere. All the while she is caressing and fondling him, she tells him how wonderful she thinks he is. It's a novel experience; Branka has never said such things to him and neither has Felsi. A warm feeling grows in the pit of his stomach. It's pleasant. Not as pleasant as feeling her tongue on his cock is, though.

Licking her lips, her gaze shamelessly sweeps his hard length. "You're so big," she purrs. "Look." He may not be quite as long as her forearm, but he certainly is thicker. "Impressive." Biting her lower lip, she locks eyes with him. Those beautiful eyes never leave his while she pleasures him with her mouth. Her warm, wet, soft tongue twirls around the head, her hands firmly massaging his shaft. This doesn't even come close to the intimate encounters with his left hand; it's almost too good to bear. He audibly grits his teeth. Suddenly the elf groans: "Oh, I can't wait any longer!" She straddles his loins and lowers her wet cunt over his aching cock in one fell swoop. It's been too long since the last time he felt such hot, moist, tight flesh (and even then it wasn't half as good as this); it takes all of his willpower not to ruin it right away.

The heaviness in his groin, that feeling of his seed being all too ready to erupt to the surface, gradually lessens. He now has ample time and awareness to watch the Warden enjoy his cock, riding it slowly. Her body is moving so beautifully; the way her features twist in pleasure is exquisite. Tiny moans pour from between her parted lips. She places his hands on her chest, encouraging him to grab and knead hard enough to bruise.

Oghren at long last realizes he shouldn't just lie there and let the girl do all the work. With every sensual roll of her hips, he rises to meet her, coaxing forth cries that grow louder and louder with each thrust. He gives one final shove, burying himself in her completely, and comes harder than he's ever done. The elf enhances the experience with a passionate kiss, while a whole array of multi-coloured fireworks go off behind his eyelids.

His eyes open to the sight of her happy face. Pulling her covers over the both of them, the elven Warden snuggles up to him with a content sigh. There is no need to speak. She lays her hand over his heart, before smiling lazily and drifting off to sleep. Oghren covers her hand with his. The sudden flood of happiness is so overwhelming, the dwarf has no choice but to step out for a moment. That, or break down completely. Outside it is. He pulls his drawers and trousers back on, then bolts through the tent flap.

Just outside the exit, he nearly bowls over two very guilty-looking figures. Well, one of them is, anyway. The other Warden's face turns a bright red as he stutters out some lame excuse; his pipe-cleaning friend only gives a slow applause. "Bravo!" Zevran says approvingly. "Now _that_ is how you resolve the elven/dwarven rivalry." He holds a blue bottle out to the dwarf. "Drink up, my stocky friend. You deserve it."

Oghren reaches for it out of habit, but on second thought pulls his hand back. "Nah, I'm good." A wide grin appears under his moustache as he thinks of the beautiful woman he left asleep in her tent. _His_ woman now. He sniffs the cool morning air, pale dawn creeping in at the edges of darkness. Birds are beginning to sing their tunes. A new day has begun. "I think I'll lay off the stuff for a while."


	6. Nobody Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair likes Hylla. Hylla likes Alistair. What's the problem then? Find out for yourself.

## Nobody Knows

Alistair often found himself staring at his fellow Grey Warden. At first he thought he simply admired the small elven girl; after all, she was very strong for such a delicate creature and defeated their foes with even more ease than he did. The way she'd _murdered_ that ogre, driving her blades into its throat and heart... It was the most spectacular thing he'd ever seen.

When he caught himself thinking of how her pouty pink lips would taste, how her round breasts would feel in his hands or how it would sound if she whispered sweet words into his ear with that melodious voice, the Warden realized that what he felt for her went beyond admiration. The increased heart rate and sweaty palms pretty much gave it away. And the naughty dreams, of course.

But little did he know that beautiful, soft-spoken Hylla Tabris had a deep, dark secret. The only ones who had ever known were her parents. Her mother had even taught her how to fight, wielding sword and dagger, because if anyone were ever to uncover her secret, or even be able to guess at what it was, well... Suffice it to say that it would not go over well. So Hylla trained and practised until she was strong and skilled. Not even her dear cousins Shianni and Soris knew, even with all the time the three of them had spent together. The thought that she might be different hadn't crossed the siblings' minds for one moment.

Despite her attractive appearance, the young woman had no experience with men, none whatsoever. Her upcoming wedding had made her both scared and excited, but it was actually a relief the whole thing got cancelled. The reason it did, was a terrible one, one she didn't like dwelling on. It had led to her being conscripted into the Grey Wardens to avoid certain death and her life drastically changing. Hylla regretted nothing though; those humans had got what was coming to them.

She thought she'd lost faith in humanity, but then Alistair came along. He was strong, handsome and so sweet. Hylla often wondered how it would be if the man would take her in his arms and kiss her, oh so gently but passionately. Only the thought of that made her feel so hot she would start sweating and breathing heavily. This often brought on concerned questions and she was running out of explanations. She tried very hard not to think of Alistair that way, but failed most of the time.

One day, the young man just got sick of being tormented by vivid, frustrating dreams, shaking like a leaf whenever she was present, fearing she would find out the reason behind his constant blushing and stammering. It was time he got these feelings off his chest.

"Hylla?" Alistair looked down on her as she was idly poking into the fire. Somehow he managed not to openly stare at her long legs. "Can we talk?" He nervously shuffled his feet. What if she didn't like him? Surely he'd never be able to live down that disappointment. He'd even made the effort to dress properly, in nice pants and his best shirt.

The elven girl stared up at the taller human. "Sure." Simply his presence alone got her heart doing somersaults in her chest. "I learned at an early age. You?" Hylla always kept her answers short, simple and sarcastic to prevent any unwanted words from escaping her.

"Har har, very funny. I meant, might we talk alone? Just you and I." The Warden's face turned a deep shade of red and he uncomfortably cleared his throat.

She gave him an unreadable look as she rose. "Very well." Before Hylla turned to march off, she gestured for Alistair to follow her. Twigs snapped under their boots while the two made their way through the undergrowth.

Each were caught up in their own musings: Hylla fearing he had discovered her secret, Alistair contemplating how he should tell her how he felt. He nearly crashed into the object of his affection when she suddenly halted. They were in a moonlit clearing a fair distance away from their camp, a lonely owl hooting somewhere in a tree.

"We're alone now. Speak," Hylla said curtly. She feared that if she stayed alone with him for too long, she would faint, or worse, tell him how she felt. That certainly couldn't happen, not with the way she was.

Alistair awkwardly scratched his head. "Er, yes. What I wanted to say..." He began pacing around, hands deep in his pockets. "Oh, Maker. This is really difficult."

"What is?" The elf watched his movements with eyebrows raised high. "Is there something you need?"

The Warden shook his head. "No, well, yes, maybe... I-I just really like you, and..." Here he stopped his pacing and hopefully eyed his companion. Who just gave him a blank stare. Letting out a long breath, the young man gathered all of his courage. He was just going to be honest. "What I mean to say is, I think I'm in love with you."

Hylla's heart skipped a beat. She shook her head and slowly sank to her knees, clasping her hands to her face. "No! You can't be!" Tears began streaming from her eyes. Why? It would be so easy to deal with if he didn't care about her at all, but here he was, telling her he was in love with her. There was no way he would accept her. No way.

"What are you talking about?" Alistair kneeled as well and carefully pried the girl's hands away from her face, forcing her to look at him. "Why not?"

"You d-don't know me," she sobbed. "You don't know what I am."

Gently he began wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Of course I know what you are. You're strong, beautiful and kind. What else do I need to know?" The pity he felt at seeing Hylla cry so miserably had wiped away all nervousness, as if by magic. All he wanted to do now was hold her and make her feel at ease.

"You don't understand. Nobody knows. Nobody." The tears had stopped flowing, only dry sobs racking her body. "You could never love me."

Alistair tilted her chin upwards. "Hylla, please don't say that. I can and I do. Whatever it is that troubles you, I will deal with it." Gazing deep into her hazel eyes, committing their shape and colour to memory, he said solemnly: "I promise."

"Really?" She sniffled. Hope flared up in her heart. "You mean that?" Could he mean it? Judging from the affection in his eyes, she would say the answer to that was a wholehearted _yes_. Wordlessly she flung her arms around his neck. Tears were flowing copiously again, but this time they were tears of joy.

Alistair froze when he felt her breasts press against his chest, surprisingly yielding through the stiff leather of her armour. His arms wrapped around her waist to draw her even tighter to him, burying his face in the crook of her neck to drink in her scent as deeply as he could.

A soft whimper escaped Hylla's throat upon feeling the Warden's lips on the sensitive skin of her neck. No man had ever been this close to her. "Alistair," she whispered in a moan.

"Yes, my dear?" He detached himself from his love and smiled warmly at her. Lucky. He felt so lucky to hold this beautiful woman in his arms. That content feeling soon turned into something else as he noticed her shortness of breath, blushing cheeks and swollen red lips. Her eyes looked like they were glazed over with desire. Much like his own probably were at the moment.

The elf bit her lip, her innards twisting into knots. "If you... If you want to be with me, there is something you should know." Might as well bite the bullet and let him know right away. She grasped his hands and opened her mouth, trying on various words to say. Finding the right ones seemed impossible. "But I can't say it. I will have to show you."

Hylla rose to her feet, taking Alistair with her. The chaste little peck she pressed upon his cheek left him aching for more, but apparently he would have to wait. The young woman took a few steps away from him. "Please don't speak," she murmured. There was longing in her eyes, and uncertainty. The Warden had no idea why she should be so insecure, for he saw nothing but utmost perfection every time he looked at her.

Eyes cast downwards, she slowly stepped out of her boots. Her heart was pounding like crazy. Was this the right thing to do? Of course it was. She wanted him to know, and she knew he wouldn't turn her down. He'd promised, hadn't he?

Boots gone, socks gone. Now her belt she dropped in the grass, her fingers working to remove her leathers. Alistair gasped when the girl's chemise came into view; the garment was slightly transparent and offered him a glimpse of her breasts. It was difficult not to reach out and rip the flimsy fabric away, to scoop her up into his arms and shower her with kisses. He had never touched a woman, true, but no doubt she could teach him how.

When Hylla turned her back to him, he could almost cry. But with the disappearance of her skirt came the sight of her behind slightly peeping out from underneath that short chemise. Alistair fidgeted nervously; his pants were beginning to feel a little tight. And then that flimsy white thing hiding her figure was flung into the grass as well, taking the string that held her hair in a high ponytail with it. Dark tresses cascaded down her back, long and lustrous. Not long enough to hide all of nature's bounties from the Warden's wandering eyes, however.

Fumbling awkwardly, Hylla undid the ties to her smallclothes and finally peeled them off too. She took a deep breath to steady herself. This was it. The girl turned around and caught Alistair staring at her, a big stupid grin plastered to his face. This grin turned even wider when his eyes fixed on her chest.

Oblivious to her apparent discomfort, the young Warden's eyes were immediately drawn to her breasts. These were the first pair he'd ever seen. And what a pair they were: round, large and firm-looking, adorned with lovely pink nipples. Unconsciously he licked his lips, imagining what they would feel like against his tongue. But there was so much more to see. His eyes travelled lower, down her flat stomach. There she showed a slight definition of muscle, just enough to still be seductively feminine. Alistair sighed happily and thanked his lucky stars for providing him this opportunity to see something he'd never seen before.

Even lower his eyes went. His breath caught in his throat. No... He _had_ seen this before. How was this possible? His mind was boggled. Alistair rubbed his eyes and looked again. It couldn't be! Eyes flitting between her shapely breasts and the engorged, twitching thing that shouldn't be there, his brain couldn't comprehend what his eyes saw. But it _was_ there. And it was bigger than his own.

All hope fled her when Hylla witnessed the changing of expressions on her fellow Warden's face. First, utter bliss. Then, confusion. And finally, disgust. "A-Alistair?" she whispered tentatively.

"You... Y-you have a... a... You have a _thing_!" he gibbered. His mind was reeling. "Like me!" He shook his head, all desire gone from his being. "I'm sorry, I can't do this." Swiftly he turned on his heel and walked away.

So it was as she had feared it would be all along. Again Hylla buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She was a freak, and nobody would ever love her. How could they? She wasn't exactly a woman, but she wasn't a man either. Alistair... He had promised her he would deal with it. And now he was walking away. Her sadness abruptly shifted into a different kind of emotion. The kind that had sent an entire estate of humans to their death. A red mist appeared before her eyes and red-hot rage consumed her, drowning out everything else.

~*|'-'|*~

Alistair never even saw it coming. One moment he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned; the next thing he knew, he was on his back in the dewy grass. His jaw hurt like nobody's business and stars were swimming around his vision. In an instant Hylla was on top of him, fingers tangled around his collar and shaking him vehemently.

" _You shallow little shit_!" she hissed. "I'll deal with it, he says! I promise, he says! I open myself up to you and you dare look at me like I'm some kind of monster? _Fuck you_!" Her fist hit his jaw once more for good measure. Alistair was pretty sure he'd lost a tooth to that one. He wanted to apologize, but it was impossible to get between her enraged accusations. All he could do was protect his face with his forearms while she rained punches down on him, all equally painful. Didn't he deserve this for his behaviour? He could so have handled that better, even if she wasn't a sight one saw every day. His colleague was right; he _was_ a shallow little shit. Better to let her whale on him for a while until she was tired and would leave him alone.

Suddenly the lithe body on top of him was gone. Alistair let out a long shuddering breath and made to bolt, but his face was pressed into the grass before he could even move a muscle. A hard blow hit the back of his head, making him dizzy and slightly groggy. Hylla had an iron grip on his neck. Still in a fit of rage she tore his best shirt to shreds, revealing his sculpted torso. Her frenzied mind was still able to appreciate this as her free hand explored his shoulder blades, his spine, the scarred skin of his strong back. An appreciative grunt came forth from her; she felt how she became even harder at the sight and feel of him. Her exploring hand left his body and curled around her hard-on, stroking and squeezing.

The blood froze in Alistair's veins the moment he heard her moaning softly, even with his slow-working mind. He did not like where this was going. Not at all. But squirm as he might, he could not break free. When had the girl become so strong? Last time they had arm wrestled, he'd won soundly. His worst fears were confirmed with the disappearance of his pants and smalls. Alistair kicked, screamed and swore, but to no avail. Hylla was too strong for him.

"Relax, bitch," the little elf rasped. Her normally pleasant voice was raw, rough. "The more you struggle, the more this will hurt." All she wanted now was satisfaction and revenge; nothing would be able to stop her. She didn't know much of the act, but the anger in her certainly did. Her delicate hand traced the curve of one muscular buttock, then the other. Feeling him tremble under her touch, feeling him try to escape, made the enraged elf laugh cruelly. He deserved it. Mess with her, would he? Never. This Grey Warden was about to learn that nobody fucks with Hylla Tabris.

Wrapping an arm around his waist to both hold him in a kneeling position and restrain him, she groped around for her belt. In the little pouch that was attached to it, the girl always kept a small vial of oil to keep her weapons in prime condition. Instinctively she knew lubrication was absolutely necessary for what she was about to do; simply spitting wouldn't be enough to have things proceed smoothly. One oiled finger slowly circled her victim's opening and then slipped inside.

Every fibre in Alistair's body pulled taut when he felt her touch him, _there_ , where he hardly even touched himself. Hot tears of shame streaked his face; how could she, he, whatever, humiliate him so? He was instantly drained of all fight. His muscles tightened even further when that one probing finger was joined by another, paving the way for something larger.

"So tight," Hylla growled. "I'm going to enjoy you." Smiling wickedly, she pulled her fingers from him and poured an amount of oil into her palm to anoint her cock with. It throbbed in her hand, the blood inside fuelled by both anger and lust. She positioned the tip against the shivering human's orifice, feeling it twitch involuntarily.

"Please, Hylla, don't," Alistair begged pitifully, his throat thick with fear. "Please don't do this to me."

For a moment she was silent, igniting a tiny spark of hope. That hope was crushed brutally when the elf burst out laughing. " _Please don't do this to me_ ," she mimicked his plea in a squeaky little voice. "Should've thought of that before you walked out on me."

"I'm sorry!" The Warden was openly weeping now. "Please, I'm sorry!"

Hylla bared her teeth in a vicious grin. "Too little, too late." And with that she abruptly penetrated the young man, pushing the tip of her into him. A pleasured groan tumbled from her lips upon feeling his tightness.

Eyes wide with horror, Alistair was unable to breathe for several moments. The pain was incredible, like being torn apart. It felt as if a red-hot knife had been stabbed into him, as if he were just impaled upon a blistering metal rod. In a reflex his hips bucked backward; this drove the appendage, so much larger than only two delicate fingers, deeper into him. He would've screamed his head off, but the shame of any of their companions seeing him bent over like some prison bitch held his voice in check. Instead he whimpered, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets with pain, tears flowing freely down his face. Alistair felt like a live butterfly pinned into a frame.

"Oh my, aren't we eager?" the girl purred in a mockery of affection. His muscles twitched and contracted around her as she slowly pushed herself into him all the way. If a monster he saw, a monster she would be. In fact, she wasn't even going to give him time to adjust to her. "You know what this means, don't you?" Her nails dug bloody furrows into his back. "This means you're my bitch now." Swiftly she commenced fucking Alistair in long strokes. The girl was a novice; nevertheless, the pumping motion of the pelvis came naturally to her.

The Warden thought the pain could not possibly get any worse when she'd first entered him. Boy, was he wrong. The hurt increased by tenfold when Hylla moved inside of him and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to distract himself. But all the templar training in Thedas couldn't help him with this ordeal. He felt pain, he felt humiliation, he felt shame, he felt... Was it possible? So it seemed. That feeling stabbing into his innards, twisting them into pleasant knots, was nothing other than pleasure. Even though his mind screamed that he was being abused, that this was wrong and unjust, his body reacted and took over.

Slowly but surely his pained whimpering transformed into a soft moaning. With every thrust, the rock-hard cock that pumped away in him hit a spot that felt particularly delicious. The soft noises he uttered only became louder when Hylla curved an arm around his hip and firmly grabbed his now hardened shaft. Her hand was slick with oil, only increasing the violent bliss he felt. Better yet, her hand was _experienced_. There was still pain, but it was so overridden by pleasure it hardly mattered. His mind fuzzy with the onslaught on his senses, Alistair tilted his pelvis to allow her to get even deeper.

This action made the little elf chuckle. "Like it now, do you?" She began moving quicker. "Say my name, little bitch." Her hand released his erection and came down on his ass with a sharp slap.

"Hylla!" he cried out. "Please, harder." His voice was hoarse, his handsome face contorted into an expression of unadulterated desire.

The young woman's lips curved into a smirk. Her hand came down once again, with more force this time. "Whatever do you mean, Alistair?" she drawled. "Did you want me to hit you harder?" She punctuated each thrust with a ringing slap, leaving a glowing red spot on his smooth skin.

The Warden gasped. "No..." For a moment doubt flickered on his features, but obviously his need was greater. "Stick it in harder?" he whispered tentatively.

Hylla laughed loudly, bringing her hand down hard yet again. "Not quite what I want to hear. You must know a better word for this, no? Let me help you along: it starts with an f."

"F...?" Momentarily his brown eyes had a look of confusion to them, then they lit up upon his finding the right word. " _Fuck_ me harder," he moaned.

"Good boy." His reward was for her to pound her cock into him as hard as she could, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filling the air. Her hand returned to its old task, stroking him firmly and quickly. The other tangled into his hair and roughly pulled at it. Alistair gasped and moaned with each thrust, with each motion of her hands; in the pit of his stomach pressure began to build.

Sweat poured off Hylla's brow while she fucked the Warden with all her might. It took all of her concentration to hold off on climaxing, but it was so difficult. His ass was so tight, so hot. The trembling of the body pressed against hers, the telltale throbbing in her hand told her that he was close to the edge as well.

Suddenly the pressure in his stomach exploded into waves of ecstasy that set his entire body on fire. Oceans roared, mountains moved, and he came harder than he'd ever done. Alistair screamed out his release, his raw cries causing birds to fly up from the surrounding trees.

The copious amount of his hot seed spilling over her hand, more than she'd ever seen with herself, meant Hylla's permission to let go. The tight clenching of his muscles around her cock gave her no choice, really. With one last deep thrust she spent herself inside of him, every fibre of her body flooded with pure pleasure. Moments later she flopped into the grass, sighing contently.

"That... was amazing," she breathed dreamily. Her voice possessed its usual dulcet tones again. With her release, satisfaction had fully replaced her anger. Not one pang of regret for the rough treatment of her fellow Grey Warden plagued the girl. Her eyelids fluttered; with a content smile on her pretty face, Hylla dozed off.

Alistair lowered his aching body onto the ground and cradled her in his arms. For the first time that night, he kissed her voluptuous lips, marvelled at the softness of them. He looked down on her sleeping form with a smile on his face. Who'd have thought he would get fucked up the ass by a girl who wasn't a girl after all? His jaw might be broken, there was a bloody gap where a tooth used to be not very long ago and he was pretty sure that he had just experienced the meaning of getting torn a new one. He was battered and sore, could still hardly grasp that the girl would treat him this way. Still, he felt content and _happy_. Hylla was right: he was her bitch. And he fucking loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I came up with this. A Bible Black overdose, probably.


End file.
